Tales of Harmonia
by Sheepy-kun
Summary: A Tales fanstory. Liane Fanel is a normal boy from a back-water town. However, when he sees a woman fall from the sky one night, he is suddenly plunged head-first into a war over the power of creation itself for not only his world, but others as well...


_CHAPTER ONE _

"Stupid fish."

Hook dangling at eye level, the girl frowned, staring at the fact that, yet again, another fish had gotten away with her bait.  "Oh man."  She groaned, looking over at what she had left, the nine-year old not looking forward to putting her hand into the bowl of dirt at her side and fetching another worm.  Yuck.  Sticking out her tongue in protest with a grimace, she stuck a chubby hand into the dirt, reaching for another squirming victim.  Pulling out a particularly long and slimy one, she held it with two pinched fingers at eye level, staring at it.  Gross.  Wriggling away, she put it down onto the dock, bending over it with hook in hand.  A pout coming to her face, she got ready to bait her hook as she had so many times before until she heard the creaking of footsteps on wood.

Chuckling to himself as he watched her method of baiting a hook, the teen walked toward the dark-green haired girl, bending down to her level.  "You know," He started, tenor voice ringing, "It works better if you hold it up and hook it that way."

"I know."  The girl answered back, stabbing the wriggling worm once.  "But I don't wanna touch it.  It's all cold and slimy.  Hey!"  Putting her hands on her hips, she gawked at the boy as he took the hook from her, pulling the worm clear off the hook.

"It'll fall clean off if you cast your line out with him hardly on like that."  Running the worm through once, then twice and a third time, he presented the line to her again with a grin.  "There, now any fish that tries to get that off will have a harder time."

Green cat-eyes again staring at the worm securely attached to her hook, she still seemed to pout a little.  "Thanks, Liane."  Waiting until he let go of the line, the girl walked back to the edge of the dock, bringing her pole back and casting it out into the lake in front of them, the hook sinking with a gentle 'ploop' into the water.  Looking back over her shoulder, she glanced up at the brunette teen.  "So where's my brother?"

Ruffling his hand through his hair, he used that same hand to point.  "Watch your line." He instructed.  "And if I know Fin, he's probably sticking behind in class to ask some girl to the festival tonight."

She made a face.  "He better not." The girl pouted.  "He said that he was going with me."

Liane couldn't help but grin at that.  "Well, did he ask you?"

"No…" She said softly, wagging her pole around a little.

"Has anyone asked you?"

Silence met him as the girl continued to move back and forth in her hands.  Again Liane laughed, bending over and putting a hand on her shoulder.  "Iria, I would be honored if you'd let me escort you to the festival tonight."

Looking over her shoulder, Iria grinned, a few of her teeth still missing in the front.  "That's just 'cause you haven't found a date yet!"  She laughed.

STAB.  She was right after all, asking quite a few of the girls of the village if they would attend with him, but each time getting turned down.  Something about being too short.  It really hurt, though, getting turned down by a nine-year old of all people.  Still, he tried to muster up a smile.  "No, I just really wanted to go with you."

"So how many girls did you ask?" Iria grinned.

_Gods, she is definitely Fin's sister.  _He thought to himself with a groan, clearing his throat and changing the subject.  "Fine then, I won't take you."

Iria huffed mockingly.  "Fine, why would I want a shorty for a date anyway?" Her grin grew, and she stuck out her tongue at him.  Feeling a very distinct tug at her pole, however, the girl quickly snapped back to attention, tugging at it.  "Liane, I think I got something!"  Standing up quickly, the girl gave a hardy pull, starting to bring in her line.  Bracing her from the back, Liane tugged on her shoulders, helping her quite a bit as she brought up a rather large trout.  The scaly beast flopping down on the deck with a wet and defeated thump, the nine-year old stood triumphantly over her vanquished foe, then smiled up at the teen boy, who was grinning.  Expecting a thank you, really the brunette should have known better; "You're gonna take it off the hook, right?"

Yep, she was a heart-breaker all right.

"Sure." Liane chuckled, shaking his head and popping the thing free.  Next she'd probably expect him to scale and gut it.

"Hey!  My sister's got you playing wifey, eh Liane?"

Enter the older brother, chuckling all the way as he walked toward the dock, a lop-sided grin painted rather blatantly on his thick face.  That was like Finley, though, a constant supply of amusing one-liners; unfortunately, Liane seemed to be the victim this time around.  With fish in hand, the teen turned, watching as the much taller blond came over, Iria sneaking around Liane to get to him.  Blond braids bouncing as she did, she pouted, standing in front of her brother—who easily towered over her—with her hands firmly planted on her hips.  "You're late!"

That caught him by surprise, and the giant blinked, rubbing a calloused hand through his short-cropped hair.  "Huh?"

"You're.  Late." She repeated, this time a little slower, as if he didn't understand what she said the first time.  "You said you were gonna take me fishing this morning.  Now Liane's telling me you got a date for the festival tonight!" 

Feeling those cat-green eyes stare him down, Liane chuckled a little, scratching his head a little.  _Hey, don't look at me._  He thought to himself, _She's__ your sister, man._ 

Lingering for a moment on Liane, Finley finally signed, shrugging apologetically.  "You've got me all wrong, Iria!  I had class this morning.  Besides, I—I was finding a date for Liane, not me!"

"For Liane?"

"A _what?_"  His head whipped around, and he gaped at the gold-haired youth.  That was a bold-faced lie if ever he heard one, and Finley's grit-tooth smile was all the confirmation he needed; if growing up around him taught him anything, it was that, in this sort of situation, his friend was a horrible liar.  So, in so few words, he was playing cover-up with him.  Well, it wouldn't be _so_ bad.  He would have a girl to go with, after all, and he did have good taste in women.  Liane was hardly the ladies' man however, and whereas the lady fair would have expected her burly prince charming, she was getting the court jester instead.  Somehow, the more he delved into this, the worse it got.  _And _who _is the one whipped here, Fin?_  Liane asked himself, watching the siblings grin at each other.

One of the boys was going to owe the other big time, and somehow Liane was afraid he was getting the short end of the stick.

_Flatten._  A hand swept over his cowlick, which defiantly stood back up at attention.  _Flatten!_  Another slicked back hand, and another failed attempt at taming that one unruly hunk of hair.  _Come on, can't a guy ever catch a break?  Stay.  Down.  _Holding his bangs out of his face with his hand, Liane grumbled, staring at himself unpleasantly in the mirror.  It was enough that he was roped into one of Finley's plans, but the least his hair could do was cooperate for this one possible chance at romance.  That would have been far too easy, though.  Did he always have to be so painfully awkward?  Tugging at his hair in frustration, he let his fingers fall out of it, swearing that his cowlick stood even straighter now than it had before he decided to pick and curse at it.  "Of course."  He muttered, groaning again.  It was futile, that nasty mop of hair never did anything he wanted it to any other time; it would just have to do.

His father had already left for the festivities, the figure-head of the night, making the first toast (which was easily an hour ago) for the Festival of Deliverance.  Really, Liane didn't see the point of the celebration, save as an excuse for the older residents to have an reason to be drunken in public, which was justifiable in their eyes.  While at one point in time this was an important day, many people had forgotten the reason why they celebrated, why they cheered and made merry with the night.  The treaty between the humans and elves, signed with both sides gritting their teeth, neither one quite getting what they wanted out of the deal.  They would cease their fighting—over what was their grandfather's grandfather's war, one they did not know what the reason was behind it.  They would live together, work together, and die together.  The only unfortunate thing was that those sorts of plans tended to work better on paper than in action.  Even to this day, generations past, there were hostilities.  The older of the elves still told of the torture given to the half-bloods, those that decided to taint both pure lines; their children were an abomination, and would be destroyed because of that.  Half-elves still cowered with the stories of centuries past, and yet they were celebrating a treaty signed by people with their fingers crossed behind their backs.  When he was a child, it was a day off from his lessons, and a time to run around the town like you were a king, now it was just a reminder of how separated the world really was.

Straightening the tie around his neck, the brunette gave himself one more look-over.  Hair.  Well, that was not quite how he wanted it to turn out, one piece of his bangs not long enough to slick back like the rest of his hair and instead falling in his face, the other jetted straight up.   One chose their battles carefully.  Tied meticulously back with a piece of long, white cloth, a few pieces jetted out in defiance, curling at his nape while the rest sat like a bushy raccoon tail against the small of his back.  Face.  Clean, and no bags under his strangely-amber eyes.  That was always a good sign.  Clothes.  They left much to be desired, but beggars couldn't be choosers.  A black jacket, none of the clasps done up, with a thin red-ribbon tie under his white blouse.  Coupled with a pair of slacks and somewhat flat-coloured dark shoes, he looked like he was going to a church more than a festival, but women liked when men dressed up, right?  Hands instinctively going toward his hair, he stopped himself before he could touch, holding his hands out in his defense as if he was being accused of a crime, and putting them in his pockets.

Not quite dark yet, the sun just barely skimmed across the horizon, glimmering like a red blaze of glory against the palette of muted golds, peaches and lavenders.  To say that it was a gorgeous night was an understatement; the first warm evening that they had had since the end of winter not too long ago, so the timing couldn't have been anything but perfect, particularly considering how cold it could be in Dallan at that time of year.  He would probably be way too warm in his jacket, but that much didn't matter to Liane.  It was all about the image after all, and despite a few bumps in the road, he thought he came out fairly well.  Hands still slipped into his pockets, he started toward the square, fingers fidgeting on the inside of his pockets.  What sort of girl had Finley asked?  She was probably pretty, although not too bright, and above all out Liane's league.  He was no casanova, that was for sure, so little acts to woo said woman were going to be few and far between.  Maybe his thick-skulled friend could give him a few lines to start with, and somehow, through sheer luck of his own, he would find a way to wing it?  What was he freaking out about anyway?  It wasn't like he'd never interacted with a woman, but when it came to being suave and cool, the teen was better off just keeping his mouth shut.

Coming to a crossroads, that's when he saw them, strolling down one of the streets jutting off to the left.  Literally bouncing as she held her brother's hand fast, Iria was adorable, golden hair let loose in a sea of waves crashing against her shoulders.  In a like-colored yellow dress that stopped at the knee, she couldn't have looked happier in her white pinafore and mary janes.  Finley walking at her side, it became blatantly obvious that he should have left his jacket at home.  Dressed quite plainly in an indigo-dyed shirt and plain slacks, he put a hand to his forehead, shaking his head.  "A little over-dressed aren't we?"

"I wanted to leave an impression with _my date._"  Liane barked back, starting first at the tie around his neck, pulling it off rather quickly.

Finley couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle.  "Yeah, you'll leave an impression all right.  Looks like you're going to a funeral to me.  Come on, you and I have been to enough of these to know what you look like doesn't matter.  Besides, women see right through that kind of thing."

"And how would you know that?"  His eyebrow twitched as he slipped the tie into his pocket.

"Take it from personal experience.  They see something like that and think you're trying way too hard.  Isn't that right, Iria?"  He grinned down at his date.

Iria shuffled her feet a little, looking down, a somewhat shy smile on her face.  "I think he looks fine…"  Fidgeting with the front of her pinafore, Liane could have sworn that her cheeks were pink.

Grinning from ear to ear, Finley laughed.  "Careful there, Liane.  I might have to rough you up if you steal my date!"

Looking up quickly with a rather crimson face, Iria let go of her brother's hand and stared up at him, putting a foot down.  "Liane isn't gonna steal me!  I don't even like Liane; he's a midget!"

The two boys laughed as Iria waved her arms about, yelling at the two of them.  Even for a nine-year old, she took things far too seriously sometimes, and for all the times that the two tag-teamed him, Liane dished it back—directly and indirectly—to either of them.  It was as if the boy were a member of their own split family, a pair of brothers watching over their baby sister.  Shaking his head and wiping a tear away from his eye, Liane put on a mock-oblivious look, blinking a few times; "Wait, did you just call me short?!"

Finley's baritone laughter rang through, but Iria was silent, pointing up, staring.  "Lookit!  A shooting star!"  She pointed again, a little more firmly to prove her point.

Stopping, both boys looked up.  Sure enough, something shone in the sky, not streaking past, but rather slowly ascending downward, like a feather dancing down to the earth.  Drawing his brow together, the tall blond stared.  "That doesn't look like any shooting star I've seen."

"It's heading for the docks."  Liane stated gravely.  What in the world would have been falling from the sky like that?  A rather slow descent at that, it glowed against the quickly-darkening sky.  If it was heading for the dock, shouldn't someone go check it out?  Make sure that whoever was at the docks was safely evacuated, just in case whatever it was was actually dangerous.  One foot instinctively moving in front of the other, the brunette set off down the road, leaving the other two behind.

_What the hell is he doing?!_  "Liane!"  The tall boy called after him.

Waving his hand over his head, Liane continued on, calling back; "Go on ahead, I'll be right there!"

"H-hey!"  He started at him, shouting now.  "What am I supposed to do about your date?!  HEY!"  His question went unanswered, the other teen already well down the road.  Groaning to himself, he ruffled his hair a little, pursing his lips together.  He was an idiot… but at any rate, Finley would still be able to go on the date with the woman that he originally intended on going with, so it wasn't a complete loss.  Still, as his eyes went back toward the skies to the strange object, now disappearing behind the trees, a stone set in his stomach, and he wasn't quite sure that he could place why.

Faster.  He had to run faster.  There were people scattered all about the square—which sat in the opposite direction—but Liane knew quite well that a fair share of the more intoxicated festival-goers tended to wander, and the docks was just another place to get lost on a drunken adventure.  His breath coming out in burning puffs as he pushed himself further on, Liane saw it, the clearing that led to the dock off of the lake.  A light beaming down atop the water's surface, it lit the way to a thankfully abandoned oblivion.  Coming to a stop short of the edge of trees there, he bent down, grabbing his knees and taking a few much-needed gulps of fresh air.  Settling himself, curiosity bode him to look up at the water.  Warm was the light that enveloped the lake, descending to finally skim over the delicate water's surface.  He couldn't look away, while common sense said to run, to get someone, his feet thought differently, pushing him closer before he realized.  Feet creaking under the weathered wood of the dock, he watched as the light died down, seeing something he hadn't expected to see: a person.

She was small, skin sun-kissed to the point of looking like pale milk-chocolate, snow-white hair moving like a sentient being around her, brushing against her bare ankles.  Her ears long and pointed, much larger than even an elf's, her petite form was covered from her neck to the middle of her calves with an almost glowing cloth, hugging her form tight.  Her back turned toward him, her chin tipped toward the water, toes nearly touching.  Shoulder pivoting just a bit, her head turned, and he finally saw her face, surprisingly more human-like than he figured it would be, eyes blinking open.  They were so blue, ultraviolet almost, and the woman stared at him as he stared back at her, both frozen within the other's gaze.

"Who?" Her voice echoed, high and somewhat harsh with its lack of emotion, the air almost electric with the sound.  …Who in the world was she?


End file.
